


Limerence

by MartyGras



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Bookworm!Percival, Credence deserves good things, Gatsby the cat, M/M, Percival working at a bookshop, Romance, Virginia Woolf books, bookshop au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-17
Updated: 2017-03-17
Packaged: 2018-10-06 05:58:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10327295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MartyGras/pseuds/MartyGras
Summary: Limerence - the state of being infatuated with another person.Percival Graves was a man with a rather simple life. He enjoyed his job at the local bookshop, some days more than others, and he certainly enjoyed reading a good book on the side as well. So when he gets the chance to meet the author of one of his favorite books he's obviously delighted..... Perhaps a tad bit more than delighted.





	

There were days when Percival Graves enjoyed his job.

Those were the days where everything went smoothly and where the costumers came in and used his time wisely. They asked important questions about literature and discussed authors with a passion that went beyond words. Those were the days where he did not regret that instead of finishing his psychology degree, he became a librarian at a local antique bookshop instead. Those were the days where everything seemed to magically fall into place on their own and everything just had a certain pace that was not too fast nor too slow.

Today was not one of those days.

He sighed, disappointed when he looked at the clock right above the door again. The time seemed to run so much slower on these days. So slow that he, in fact, was sure that time was making a mockery out of him.

And everybody knew that Percival Graves was not a man to mock.

The heavy philosophy books he had spent almost four hours on sorting out were tiring his eyes and his arms out to a certain degree where all he wanted to do was to close the place down and go home for the night. Quite frankly he did not understand the appeal of philosophy so the fact that he even had to order these books to please the youngsters was almost offensive to him and his sensibilities.

He understood that interests were entirely subjective, and so was taste in literature, and he even understood that there were many people whom regarded psychology books as a complete waste of time to read, and that was their right to feel he supposed. They were wrong, but it was another story.

There were plenty of books he did not consider worthy of a read. Not because they lacked good stories or complex buildups, but because they lacked commitment. If you wanted to write a good horror story, you better make it as gory as possible and if you want to write something romantic you better make people weep as little children by the end of it.

If you wanted to write a mundane novel about nothing in particular you better make it hauntingly so. Make it so mundane that everyone in the room is uncomfortable by the mere thought about it.

Commitment, after all, was not something a good vocabulary could ever give an author. You either had it or you didn’t.

And sadly, most philosophical books and stories lacked in that department.

Heck, he’d even seen pictures in books with sketchy drawings that looked suspiciously enough like phallic objects.

But they made it interesting for the reader. The stories could be completely separated from the pictures, if they even had pictures, but people stopped their reading to see the picture and would always remember the book as the story that had the phallic object on page thirty. That could be considered a commitment in Percival’s opinion.

Making people think and feel, and leaving behind a mental image that would be remembered… that was what Percival would consider art in its highest form.

But this… this was not art.

He thought about that as he almost slammed the last heavy book on top of the shelf with a grunt. The shelf shook a little by the mere force and for a moment Percival prayed that he didn’t break the bookshelf.

The shop had been empty almost the whole day. A few customers here and there, some guy he recognized from a month back when he came in and looked for a book with fantasy creatures. In his sheer excitement he had told Percival that he really adored dragons and would love to own every single book there was about them.

But other than that it had been a very slow day, which were the days that Percival hated the most. Because that meant inventory and that was the most tedious part of work.

He let his eyes fall on the several shelves filled with books with all kinds of weird titles. Everything from “how philosophy can help you” to “how to improve your sex-life with yoga” and “Lucy’s life”.

Literature was not the same as it used to be.

People used to read a lot. They used to talk about books and share their latest literature find with their neighbors and friends, but today people didn’t really care that much. Not most people anyways.

It was almost like people were ashamed of reading. That was considered something “geeky” and something that society didn’t want their youngsters to do or think about. We would rather have a society filled with “doers” rather than thinkers, which books tend to do to people. A good book should make you think, and in turn thinking would make you reflect.

Then again, if the philosophical trend hadn’t taken off a couple of years ago, he might have been out of a job by now.

So many philosophy books, so little inspiration.

The moment he had accepted the job as a shopkeeper he had been looking forward to finding that inspiration. Not only for the rest of the world, but also for himself really. He’d been so sick of sitting in stuffy rooms and talking to people about their problems that he’d quite frankly lost faith in humanity. Not that he hated people or humanity, he just lost the inspiration to stand them for a longer period of time. He didn’t want to live his life like that anymore.

He couldn’t live his life to please others and helping others if he couldn’t enjoy doing so.

As someone whom believed in fate, which Percival very much would argue that he did even if he seemed strict and uncooperative most of the time, he knew that there was a reason why he was here. That there was a reason that even on these slow days where he didn’t enjoy the books he was currently putting up for people to get their hands on, and that spoke volumes.

If he could even enjoy his jobs on a so called “bad day” he sure was meant to be here.

And the people that went there to buy books and discuss them with him? That must be fate as well, right? Just as much that it was his fate to stand here and think about books and poetry and novels of all kinds, there must be something in store for people ending up at the shop as well. He was certain of it.

Seraphina also had hopes for the shop. She wanted it to be the very best, and she was convinced that Percival could take it there.

She was one of the few people in Percival’s life that truly understood his dedication for something that was still rather new to him. She had seen him once as a rather unknown and underground art gallery and the moment her eyes met his she told him that he should come work for her. That he would fit like a hand in a glove.

Apparently all Percival ever needed was someone telling him that they knew he could make something perfect. 

In the matter of a couple of months he was hired and she showed him the place once, and he was already hooked.

It was a cute little shop. Big shelves made out of fine oak all over, and the entire wall placed towards the street was covered with a big gracious window that almost gave that beautiful French feel to it. His desk up front always had the old computer running and a phone that was barley being used anymore considering everything could be done via social media, but there was something sentimental about a desk phone that made Percival very attached to it. The whole place overall looked snug but still very beautiful.

Something Percival would never get over was the scent of the place. It was something about that old attic smell that almost made him nostalgic every time.

The décor itself wasn’t overwhelming. There was not a whole lot going on, other than light and a lot of books all over the place, but it had its charm.

Seraphina sure was a smart lady when she created this place. She had told him that it was not only a place for young people to come and discover themselves, but also a place for Percival to relax and learn how to take care of himself.

He was still working on that. The whole “taking care of yourself” part.

It didn’t quite feel right just yet. Maybe it would all feel right one day.

But not right now.

***

Home is where the heart is.

He remembers reading that one time as a kid in an old textbook. The context was unimportant and also something he’d quite frankly long forgotten, but he still remembered that quote.

Probably because it was not a sentence he agreed to. Especially not at the time when he read it for the first time. It just didn’t suit him and his mindset at the time.

His childhood was rather mundane in every aspect of the word. His parents were ordinary, he never had any money-issues and he was an only child. He never had to share anything with anyone, nor did he have to feel threatened by siblings taking away the attention from the parents.

He always had a place to live, parents whom provided money for him and education handed to him on a silver platter. He had been privileged in many regards, and he was well-aware of that. The type of life that many struggled to come across and some people would never experience.

But still, it was all oh so ordinary.  

Perhaps a tad bit of him resented his parents because of that. He was never taught the struggle of money, friends, job, education, love, heartbreak… he just had to figure out those things by himself if he ever wanted to be able to relate and be sympathetic to other people.

He didn’t have many friends. He didn’t go out. He never traveled unless he had to. He’d never been in love.

So perhaps that was not normal. He could agree on that when he thought about the fact that he was almost 37 years old and had never really felt that connection with anyone in his entire life.

He’d had plenty of women in his life, and some of them could have been considered “real relationships”, whatever that really meant, but none of them had really made his heart flutter the way he always envisioned it would be like. He had yet to feel that excitement towards seeing someone and sharing a stiff drink with them after work.

It was fine though. Feelings seemed to complicate things anyways.

A soft purr interrupted his thoughts. Something soft and silky stroked against his jeans clad leg as he took off his heavy autumn jacket and hung it up on a hanger by the door.

“Were you waiting up for me, Gatsby?” He cooed as he reached down to pet the peke-faced Persian cat that looked up at him with a bored expression.

If there was something in his life that he would consider a true companion it would be his cat.

He had found Gatsby when he moved to London 11 years ago when it had been out in a dumpster looking for food. He recalled looking at the tiny kitten trying to locate some food to devour and feeling instantly drawn to it. The little angry facial expression and the tussled gray fur that hadn’t been cleaned in months spoke to him for some reason, and he didn’t even think twice before taking Gatsby home with him to his then small and cramped student apartment.

Percival went into the kitchen and located the high-end cat food he had stored in the cabinet. Currently that was the only cat food Gatsby liked, and considering that it was nutritious and good for the cat Percival wasn’t going to complain. He could afford it with the pay he currently had, which he still thanked Seraphina for. If it wasn’t for her generousness his cat would have had to settle for less than he deserved.

The big light gray cat dug into the bowl with food right away and purred in contentment.

Percival petted him one last time before pouring himself a little whiskey to join his cat in relaxation.

That’s what they usually did together. He came home, fed Gatsby, took a stiff drink for himself, ate a sandwich and then read a good book before falling asleep in the big couch made out of leather. Usually with Gatsby curled up on top of him. That’s about as good as it could get in his own opinion.

Percival took a sip of his whiskey and pursed his lips when the pungent taste filled his mouth. He had always enjoyed the robust taste of strong alcohol. Not that he was a heavy drinker to begin with. He had never been drunk enough to make any regretful mistakes nor had he ever been so drunk that he didn’t remember the night before. He didn’t drink to escape his life or forget, he sipped a little on whiskey to relax.

Lately a certain book had been joining him in his relaxation as well. It was not by a well-known author by any means, nor could Percival find any previous work of Credence Barebone, but he loved the way the author wrote. It was deep, poetic and hunting. A little like a cry for help and yet also like an all-knowing being that knew that in the end it didn’t matter anyway.

The book itself was titled Obscurus with big white elegant letters printed on the front of the big black cover, and the pages were filled with text that told a story about someone that was so incredibly lost. Lost and scared, and that felt like a ticking time-bomb that could explode at any minute the more rage and disappointment they felt.

Percival’s favorite part was chapter 4 when the author described a family that was falling apart at the seams, and where the abusive mothers eventually dies from a heart attack at a young age. There was something sickingly satisfying about that part. Reading how this woman abused and belittled the main protagonist and almost destroyed all of their self-worth and then finally out of nowhere dying, it pleased Percival to no end.

He supposed that’s why he liked the book so much. Not only because he was a person that held onto grudged, but because he had never experienced such things himself. Reading was a way for him to experience things he couldn’t experience in his real life, and somehow he felt connected to the way the author wrote even if they had two completely different lives. It fascinated him to no end.

It was not a bad life to live really. Coming home from a job that he enjoyed, playing with his cat that he adored and reading books that could pull him in. He knew that he was lucky. Life was not bad.

But still... his dreams at night, if he dreamed at all, were unspectacular and waking up every day was starting to feel like a drag.

***

“Are there any Virginia Woolf books that I could possibly buy from you?” a voice asked him and broke him right out of the thought process which consisted of what more books he should order by the end on the month.

The voice belonged to a young male, probably around his 20s, with glossy black hair that covered his face as he lowered his eyes to the floor when he spoke.

Percival could have sworn he had never seen this young man around before. He is absolutely certain he would remember a man like that. Young and shy. Just from looking at him you could tell he wanted to sink into the floor and disappear from everything.

He had this air of jumpy nervousness about him, but his pale white face still looked kind and understanding. Like he was scared, but like the world hadn’t beaten him up to the degree that he had completely given up on people.

“That would be very plausible, boy”, was all Percival stated as he looked straight at the young man.

When the young man finally looked up at him all Percival could see was darkness. His pale skin made his dark brown eyes almost seem haunted, and for a moment it felt like Percival had forgotten how to breathe.

It felt like his eyes could swallow him whole.

Is it possible to drown in nothingness?

“Where are they located?” The young man asked without letting his intense gaze leave Percival’s stare.

It happened quite seldom that people came in looking for Virginia Wolf books. She had a certain way of writing that were raw with emotions and some people could see it as pretentious while others found it beautiful enough to be poetry. Percival himself could feel his heart beating a little over the mere thought that such a young man was interested in one of his favorite authors of all time.

 “Have you read any of her works before, boy?” Percival asked, still not letting his eyes leave the young man standing just a few meters in front of him.

“Yes, sir”, the boy answered politely while nervously pulling on the sleeves of his baggy black sweater that was way too big for his lithe frame. “Jacob’s room and the Hours, sir.”

The sweater was worn out and had several patches of discolorations and attempts to save holes with a black thread had been made, but it was barely hanging on. His gray jeans had probably been pitch-black at one point, but the holes over the knees and the white patches told a story as old as time.

Percival walked over to a shelf that was filled with books from English female authors and pulled the sleeves of his white shirt up so that the dust couldn’t catch him.

“I do believe I have Moments of being and Between the acts for you if you’d like those?” Percival asked is a genuine curious manner. Or he at least tried.

People tended to think that he was rather emotionally aloof or crude most of the time, but when he asked questions it was because he was often interested in the answer. If he wasn’t interested, he wouldn’t even waste his time on asking things.

The young man looked slightly surprised at the question, but he didn’t let his gaze leave Percival’s either. He could feel it burning into his skull even with his back turned from him.

 “Those sound good”, he answered quietly. “I think.”

“You think?” Percival repeated while pulling the books down from the shelf and handing them to the young man.

“I don’t know if they are yet because I haven’t read that much from her before”, the young man defended himself with. “But I did some research about her and I must admit that she’s a very fascinating woman so… I want to read more from her.”

There was something about the honesty in the young man’s answer that felt… good. Even refreshing. Very few people had managed to be straightforward like that with Percival without sounding almost rude about it in his own opinion. This young man, however, sounded very genuine and interested in the author.

‘I want to try’ is a lot better than nothing at all. Percival could work with that.

He pulled a copy of Obscurus also from the opposite shelf and placed it on top of the pile of books that he had picked for him. If he loved anguished authors and stories that gripped your heart he was certain that he would love that one as well.

The young man looked at him with a look of confusion as he started walking towards the computer to tap in what books had been bought.

“That one is for free”, Percival said. “It’s one of the best books I’ve read this year and the author’s way of describing the anguish gets me the same way Woolf does so I think you might like this one as well. See it as a random act of kindness, if you will.”

The young man didn’t say anything, but something in his eyes changed. He couldn’t quite put his fingers on it, but they almost sparkled for a second there. Good to know that this youngster was as excited as he was about good books at least.

“Do you have a name and an e-mail that I can use to reach you, boy?” Percival asked as he placed the books carefully in a brown paper bag for him and placed the amount of money into the computer to create a recital for the young man. “I could put your name on a list so that I can give you a mail whenever we have new books in stock.”

The young man looked at him for a long time in utter silence, and for a moment Percival worried that he might have crossed some boundaries. It was not unheard of that people didn’t want their mail or cell phone number taken from a shop of any kind, but it was store policy so there was nothing he could do about that.

“My name is Credence Barebone, sir”, the young man finally said with a slight tug on his lips.

***

When Percival had envisioned Credence Barebone, the author, he had seen someone about his own age with the same interests and the same style as him for some reason. He knew that was slightly arrogant of him, because it wasn’t like he was anything particularly special to begin with, but someone with such a dark and twisted and lonely mind as the author projected he would certainly have more in common with him rather than people in their 20’s.

Then again, tortured souls came in all ages nowadays.

The vision he had for the author was nothing like the young man Credence Barebone that he had met, but he couldn’t say he was disappointed. Rather, he was intrigued by him.

For a moment he had thought that maybe this kid just had the same name as the author. Even if it was an unusual name it wouldn’t be entirely impossible he supposed at first, but then he had seen the way young Barebone had looked at him with those dark eyes and empty stare and he knew, he just knew, that this was the author.

He turned another page in Obscurus and let his eyes glide along the words containing pain and loneliness. It was repeated over and over like a mantra, but described like the most beautiful poem.

Percival would never get over that. The ways that the book made him feel and made his mind wander. It was truly magical in its own sense of the word.

Credence hadn’t returned to the shop for a week for his first visit, and Percival almost regretted making him leave in the first place. He should have asked more questions and that golden opportunity had slipped right through his fingers. He should have asked why the young man never made a public appearance, what be based Obscurus on, what was he working on now… all these questions and because he was just that arrogant he let this slip away right through the heavy portal.

Then again, he knew that arrogance was his hamartia.

With a sigh he turned another page, but he had already lost focus on the text. His thoughts about what could have been were almost clouding his mind to the degree where it couldn’t even process the words in front of him.

Gatsby looked at him with big judging eyes as he put his paw on Percival’s lap, like a token of understanding but also a command to get it together. Percival could agree on that.

***

Credence never returned to the bookstore, and when the days became weeks and weeks became months Percival figured that he simply wouldn’t return. Maybe Percival had made him uncomfortable or maybe he just didn’t want to be recognized for his work. It could be any of the possibilities, and all Percival could do was to continue on like nothing had happened.

So he did.

When the cold weather had left and made room for more sun and warmth to grace London, Percival took walks home or to work instead of riding the bus, and some days he would grab a soothing ice-tea by his favorite coffee shop not that far from work during breaks.

As he looked at the weather when he locked down the store for the day he figured that a walk would suit him just fine. The sun was shining, but it wasn’t overwhelmingly warm nor was the sun strong enough for him to have to block it out with sunglasses.

It was just right.

He shoved the keys down the pocket of his dark brown leather jacket that he had decided to wear as he abandoned the heavy dark coat in the closet for next year, or at least the next time the weather decided to change again.

That was something he enjoyed about London. The weather.

He enjoyed the fact that he could take long walks without having to worry about sunblock, most of the time, he enjoyed the fact that it would be too cold for him to walk around bare sleeved but not cold enough to wear heavy black coats either. He even enjoyed the rain that London provided quite often.

Not that he’d ever experienced much else other than London. He grew up in Nottingham, and all he could really remember from those days where his family home. Their tiny little house in the middle of the forest, far away from socialization, but the weather was not that different from what he recalled.

When he came to the streets filled with restaurants and café’s he walked right to the one he knew he would like the best. Not that he was a sentimental creature by any means, not that he would admit openly anyway, but he was someone that developed habits and stuck to them. Don’t fix anything that isn’t broken. It was a good way of life in his book.

The scent that was circulating the shop when he entered the shop was newly baked goods and robust coffee, which always filled him with delight. The baked goods were placed on the transparent glass cabinet, lining up and waiting for customers to consume them. Everything from simple oatmeal cookies to his favorite blueberry cheesecake was splayed out in front of him, and as he lined up behind the costumers before him he had already made up his mind on what he wanted.

The whole setting of the shop allowed costumers to sit there and feel right at home, but still calm and quiet enough for people like himself to sit down with his coffee and a good book.

There were vintage photographs placed around the walls of the shop, allowing the customers to admire the past that the shop had, and the spectacular photo-taking skills that the owners had. It just added to the comfortable feeling in Percival’s opinion.

The chestnut colored furniture was placed all over the shop with no particular direction or goal he suspected. There were small tables, chairs and sofas almost randomly placed, but with quite some space in between. Percival always picked the sofa at the darkest corner of the shop just so that he wouldn’t have to bother with the sun in his face or the sound the door made whenever a costumer entered or left.

When it was finally his turn to make an order the barista smiled a toothy grin and he could tell that she recognized him right away.

A black coffee in the biggest size and a good slice of blueberry cheesecake would suit him just fine, just like it always did.

Still not because he was sentimental, but because he was a creature of habit.

When he got his plate and big cup he sat right down where he usually did, and started opening his jacket so that he could put it over his chair. In his bad he had his book waiting for him and he had been waiting for this moment all day.

This oh so very relaxing moment when he could take a sip of his scolding hot coffee and read this new book that he found among the new arrivals that had grasped his intention.

It had been a rough day. Too many philosophy students with too many questions and too little patience with everything, but this would make everything worth it.

The title, The Blue Sword, is what initially caught his attention. He was not really overly fond of fantasy, but anything involving swords could make him slightly more interested. Seraphina had recommended the book telling him that it was a great adventure with a strong female main character that she was absolutely certain that he would enjoy.

Seraphina had never failed him before on her advice.

She knew about his weak spot for good female leads and interesting stories that made him think.

“Mr. Graves?” an all too familiar voice blurted out.

He looked up and was met by eyes that were the shade of acorns, just bright enough to shine in the shadows of the coffee shop but yet dark enough to drown Percival completely.

“It is you”, the young man said with a sigh of relief. “I thought I was mistaken at first, but I figured that I had to come over and find out for myself.”

He didn’t seem quite as tense and nervous this time as the first time Percival had seen this young man, but he would still awkwardly pull at the sleeves of his way too big marine blue sweater.

“Is there anything I can help you with, boy?” was all Percival decided to ask.

He knew that he sounded uninterested and perhaps even rude, but quite frankly, he didn’t care about that at this very moment. Maybe he felt a little insulted because young Barebone hadn’t made any effort to see him and was now standing there right in front of him like nothing about this situation was uncomfortable.

It would have been interesting if the young man had come back to the shop. Percival was absolutely convinced that if he had given it a chance they would have had a wonderful and deep conversation about his work and perhaps other books as well.

Not to be too arrogant, but he was quite convinced that he was interesting enough to talk literature with.

“Not really”, Credence answered, but this time he didn’t look Percival in the eyes again. Once again that nervous and jumpy energy embraced his entire being and Percival felt a little bad for the young man.

Damn his empathy to hell.

When he finally met his eyes again Percival nodded towards the chair in front of him as a gesture for the young man to sit down. Credence didn’t need to be told twice and awkwardly pulled his bag off his shoulder and put his cup next to Percival’s on the little table beside him.

“I want to apologize, sir”, Credence finally said as he stopped pulling his sleeves and looked directly at Percival with determination. “I’ve never quite… talked to people that have read my book, even less spoken to people that speak so highly of it. I didn’t quite know how to react.”

“I suppose I can understand that”, Percival said while he took another sip of his still too warm coffee.

He had figured as much when he knew that Credence was not going to show his face around the shop anytime soon. It was either that he felt like he was too good for the mere mortals down here that liked his work or he was just as nervous and flustered as Percival had first thought.

Obviously the latter option had been correct.

Always trust your gut is what his mother used to say, and she had never failed him before.

The young man in front of him simply nodded and took a sip of his big cappuccino with foam that slightly painted his upper lip. If Credence had any idea about the foam he didn’t show, nor did he wipe it off, which in turn made Percival stare even harder.

There was something incredibly childlike about Credence Barebone.

The young man obviously had a spiritual depth beyond words considering his work and the way he strung together sentences on paper that cut to the very core of his being, but the way his eyes would nervously flick from side to side and the way he would pull the end of his sweater and shirt tirelessly was a telling sign of his actual age.

He was still a child in many aspects.

He looked even more so with foam on his thin but yet fleshy upper lip.

“If you don’t mind me asking, sir”, Barebone started as he tried as respectfully as he could compress what he wanted to ask in a question. “What made you… enjoy Obscurus as much as you do?”

So they were having this conversation now?

Here Percival had started thinking that he would not be discussing this particular book with this particular writer in fear that he might make the younger man uncomfortable. Maybe, just maybe, the young man was interested in his thoughts and wanted to discuss literature with him?

That made him feel slightly warm inside.

“It’s a really good book”, Percival simply said. “It’s a good and fascinating story about grief and the main character is obviously struggling, but we know somehow that even when everything goes wrong in their life they will somehow be alright.”

Barebone gave a slight chuckle at that, and Percival raised his eyebrow in a questioning look. The young man rightfully looked very guilty the moment he saw it.

“At the beginning the plan was to kill off the main character”, Credence said with a careful tug on his thin pale lips. “At the start the story was just a way for me to write down whatever I felt was going wrong and at the end, I had this grandiose plan of killing the main character off to leave the reader in complete dismay.”

“That would have been very cruel of you”, Percival said. “People love to see someone struggle through hell and come out stronger in the end. But from a poetic way of viewing it… it could have been tragically beautiful to let him die.”

“That was what I thought at first”, Credence defended. “In the beginning I thought it would be more true to the story itself if I let it all end with death, but then I decided that I wanted it to have some kind of meaning. Killing the main character off would not have as much meaning as the main character surviving.”

“And that is what I like the most about it”, Percival explained. “I like that it’s filled with darkness and torment, but that in the end it’s all working out somehow. It’s a smart move. Both from a poetic point of view and a story point of view.”

Credence simply nodded and took another silent sip from his white cup, and for a moment all Percival could do was stare at the other man and enjoy the silence. 

It was actually happening.

He was sitting in front of this magnificent writer and discussing a book that he loved, and he’s getting to watch this nervous young man sip coffee and acting like they were friends that had simply not seen each other for a while.

Seraphina would never believe him if he ever told her.

It wasn’t until now it really occurred to him how much younger Credence actually was. He couldn’t be more than twenty three, and that was probably stretching it. Obviously, when he first saw Credence he had noticed how young he was, but he had also let it slip his mind when he knew that this man was the author to Obscurus.

Obscurus was written by an old and tormented soul. That was how Percival would describe it. Poetic and graceful, but so filled to the brim with pain and angst and loneliness that it just felt like it was written by someone that had been through hell and back. Someone with experience.

He would be treading dangerous water if he asked exactly what Credence meant when he said ‘true the story itself’, and a part of him was very curious about that part, but the more logical side of him knew that at any minute Credence could simply walk away from this call and once again Percival wasn’t allowed to take a peek into that glorious brain of his.

The mere thought of that kept his lips shut tightly when his lips were pressed against the time of the coffee cup.

“I think the main thing about my story is to make people feel something”, the young man finally said and Percival noticed that he had abandoned tugging his sweater for a while not. “Albeit the story was a way for me to let out some of my own… darkness, it was also a way of me knowing that I could make people feel something by sharing a part of my soul with them, you know?”

Percival kept quiet and let Credence talk.

***

As it was getting dark outside and the hours were starting to pass by the conversation got deeper and deeper, and Percival could proudly say that Credence even invoked some philosophical side of him that he had not used for many years. If he even ever had.

They discussed everything from Virginia Woolf to poetry by Walt Whitman and how the front of a book could either be a total “turn off or total turn on” as Credence would call it, and then blush and apologize for using such lingo.

Not that Percival minded. He did love that Credence could use big and complex words in real life and on paper, but there was something off-guard and charming about the more modern words that he would sometimes throw into the conversation when he got excited about something.

Credence Barebone sure knew how to get excited.

The moment the topic about books and literature came up he shined up like the sun itself and his mouth would run a lot faster than it usually did, and whenever he caught himself he would try to slow down and end the sentence with a short “sir” just to make sure that Percival knew that he was respected and that he deserved to be treated as such.

Not that Percival minded. At all even.

Everything about Credence Barebone pleased him.

The way he would smile enough to make his eyes crinkle up when Percival asked him something or complimented him, the way he would lean towards Percival when he couldn’t hear him clear enough, the way he seemed nervous and still very much in-tune with what was happening and how much he wanted this conversation to be held.

Credence Barebone was a force to be reckoned with.

Percival knew that now.

The knowledge about how much effect this young man had with him on such a short period of time almost made him want to run and hide. It probably should bother him more than it did, but his mind was soggy with the feeling of being understood and having someone to discuss wondrous and wonderful things with.

 “This might sound very weird, sir”, Credence said as he drummed his fingers on his jeans clad thighs. “But it does feel like we’re meant to be here, you know? A little like fate I suppose.”

Percival just looked at the young boy for a moment with a quizzical look upon his face.

“I believe in fate”, Credence further explained. “I have never discussed my book with anyone as in depth as I have with you and I don’t feel quite as nervous around you, which is why I think it’s… fate. It’s fate that I met you and got to talk to you.”

Percival nodded a little before he leaned towards Credence and slowly, but surely, stroked his hand over Credence. It was a comforting gesture, but also a welcoming one. A little like “I understand”, and also “it’s quite nice, isn’t it?”.

Some things couldn’t simply be said with words.

Credence looked him in the eyes again, and for a moment there it was almost like everything fell into place.

There was something so heavy in the air that the rest of the world seemed to melt away from them and all that they were was buzzing noises and blurry figures, but all that he could focus on was those black orbs.

They didn’t look guarded anymore.

They looked at him like he was home.

Credence turned his hand so that he could hold Percival’s in a soft and gentle grip, and it felt safe. It felt warm and powerful, but also so very safe.

Percival had never experienced anything like that before.

When Credence leaned forward all Percival could feel was the minty scent that invaded his nostrils in the most pleasant way and the warmth of his breath caressing his face. He didn’t quite smell like toothpaste, but more like real and pure peppermint. He smelled like he would tickle Percival’s brain if he inhaled him for too long, which Percival was in some sick way looking forward to testing out.

He had met so many youngsters these days that he always knew what kind of scent they would have just by looking at them. They would smell like spicy herbs, cigarettes and coffee so he was always ready for that. Credence on the other hand…

Percival took a shaky breath again and let the scent of peppermint and cloves invade his space. It was almost worrying how good this young man smelled.

It was also worrying how good his warm hands felt against his own.

“Do you have anywhere you need to go?” Credence almost whispered as he broke the heavy silence between them.

Percival looked disappointed as he leaned back into his chair and let go of Credence hand.

“Not at all”, Percival said. “Why do you ask?”

“I would want to go home with you”, Credence said with a slight tug on his lips again. “If it’s alright with you, sir.”

Who was Percival to deny this young man anything?

***

It didn’t occur to him until they arrived at the apartment that this was a really bad idea.

Not only was it a bad idea for him to bring home someone when he had not cleaned in what felt like ages, but it was a very bad idea to bring this young man home to him without making sure that they both knew what was going to happen. What was expected from the both of them.

There was no way in hell this was going to end well.

He didn’t care that his neighbors were staring at the young man that was walking so closely behind him. He didn’t care that his neighbors would without a doubt notice the way he looked at Credence and the way Credence looked at him.

He didn’t care that Credence would see his house in disarray considering he hadn’t cleaned in months and there was most likely piles of clothes everywhere. He didn’t care that there were empty bottles of whiskey in the sink and unwashed glasses that probably would worry anyone that didn’t know him well enough.

He didn’t care about any of that as he finally got the door opened.

If it felt this right, it couldn’t possibly be that much of a bad idea, right?

Credence went down to his knees and stroked Gatsby whom looked very confused for a moment when he saw that his owner had company over. It didn’t happen very often and when it did happen it was usually his boss whom only wanted to drop off some papers for him to sign.

Gatsby apparently deemed Credence worthy of coming inside, because he purred loudly and moved out of the way for the both of them.

It felt a little like his child approving of his new boyfriend.

The moment that thought entered his head he almost wanted to punch himself right in the face. This was not happening. Not today, or any day. There is no possible way that this is happening.

Credence had already removed his black jacket and was currently trying to hang it up next to Percival’s other jackets and coats, and the shoes were already standing by the doorway in proper position.

The boy had manners. Too much manners, even.

As he was afraid that the very moment he would do anything wrong people would be angry and punish him, and for some reason that made Percival’s stomach twist and turn in a very uncomfortable way.

What had this child actually been through?

“What are you thinking about, Mr. Graves?”

The way Credence nervous brown eyes looked at him in a doleful way didn’t make Percival any less uncomfortable with the whole ordeal.

He felt like he was taking advantage of this young man.

Damn his empathy to hell. Really.

He poured some cat food into the bowl for Gatsby whom just stared at the both of them, like he was waiting for something extraordinary to happen. Perhaps he was picking up on the tension as well.

“This… whatever this is”, Percival started explaining while gesturing between the two of them using his finger. “Is a very bad idea.”

Credence simply smiled a little at the older man and walked towards the living room and sat down on the coach. His face was stiff, but he didn’t say anything to voice his concerns, which worried Percival even more.

“You shouldn’t be here”, Percival insisted, but Credence didn’t make any move towards the door.

The little voice in his head telling him that this young man was obviously not interested in him in any way, shape or form, but rather liked the thought of being admired for his work probably, was getting louder and louder.

Common sense be damned.

Credence made sure to sit as close to the end of the couch as possible, and you could almost see him trying to shrink into the brown velvet as if he could disappear if Percival didn’t keep his eyes on him.

He looked so small in his living room.

It looked like everything around him would swallow him whole and like he could easily disappear into thin air if he could. He looked so fragile and unsure, but so determined to be there.

That’s when the thought hit Percival.

“What is Obscurus based on?” Percival asked with his stare locked into Credence.

“I thought it was quite obvious”, Credence said while mindlessly tugging on his sweater again. “It’s my story, Mr. Graves.”

When he looked at Percival this time the gaze almost felt as intimate as it did at the coffee shop, and Percival could feel himself relaxing a little.

He looked at him like the rest of the world wasn’t there, like it didn’t matter, and for a second Percival felt the exact same way.

“What exactly does that mean, boy?” Percival finally asked.

He was quite certain of the answer already, but he needed to hear Credence say it.

“It means that my mother treated me horribly and my life was hard”, Credence answered is a hushed voice. “It means that I for the longest time thought she was right and that I would never amount to anything. That I was dirty and wrong.”

Percival remembered that part so vividly in the book.

The first time it was mentioned in the book was when the main character was just a child. A tiny and innocent little child, and when he came to his mother talking about his dream of in the future becoming and author. Obviously the mother had looked upon this with skepticism, which was understandable, but that skepticism later turned into violent and mentally exhausting fights where she told him that he would never amount to anything.

The abuse escalated from there.

The book did an excellent job of describing how one situation escalated into another, and how powerless the main character felt when it came to the onslaught of abuse coming his way.

Credence, Percival had to remind himself. It’s not just the “main character” anymore, it was Credence Barebone. No matter if some situations in the book were exaggerated or completely made up the sheer thought of someone going through even half of it made Percival’s stomach turn in a very uncomfortable way.

“Do you know why she did that to you?” Percival asked as he sat down next to Credence on the couch with respectful distance between them.

“Because I was not what she wanted from a son”, Credence simply answered while avoiding eye contact with Percival. At least he had stopped pulling on his sweater now. “I wanted to be a simple writer and make stories instead of something fancy like she would have wanted. And for the longest time I thought that mother knows best.”

Percival didn’t quite know how to respond to that.

He had never struggled like that with his own family, nor had he ever had any clear goals in his life to begin with that his parents would ever be opposed to. He had never faced the pure hatred and shame that Credence had felt from his own mother.

This in turn was probably the reason why Credence Barebone was here. In Percival’s apartment.

Not only because he had felt some kind of connection to the man, much like Percival himself felt for the youngster, but because he probably felt incredibly alone and misunderstood. Any adult, whoever it could be, could do the job of making Credence feel validated.

It was hard knowing that it was probably the truth of the matter.

Credence didn’t particularly like Percival, nor was he by any means probably attracted to him, but who could blame him? An old man with a passion for books living in a tiny house with his cat… Was that really boyfriend material? And that didn’t even list all the flaws Percival had that he didn’t know about yet.

“I do like you, Mr. Graves” Credence finally said as if he was reading Percival’s mind. “I don’t know why because I barely know you, but there is something about you… about us… that just seems flawless, doesn’t it?”

Flawless.

That was certainly a word for it.

“It’s getting late”, was all Percival said as an answer. “Perhaps it’s about time that you go home, boy.”

“I was actually hoping that I could stay the night”, Credence said with a pleading look in his eyes.

Percival could barely stand it anymore.

There was no possible way he could deny this young man anything, especially not with all this new knowledge about him currently circulating in his head. This young man had been through some rough times, and if Percival could please him by doing something he wanted… he would be more than willing to do so. Even if he would hate himself for it afterwards.

He didn’t even have time to answer the question before Credence slid right on top of his lap, and almost pushed all the air out of his lungs in the process.

It had been a very long time since he had been this close to another human being, and the air between them was still heavy enough to almost make Percival feel lightheaded.

Letting his eyes get glued to Credence dark pools was a big mistake.

If he had been unsure of the young man’s intention before it was obvious now. His dark eyes were half-lidded and he was biting his lips in a seductive manner. Percival automatically let his hands stroke the front of  the young man’s sweater and gliding right above his chest and stroking leisurely, like he had all the time in the world, and when he got a groan as a response his stomach once again turned, but this time it was filled to the brim with something entirely different than before.

Credence pushed his hips down and pushed his body as close to Percival’s much bugger body as he could. As if the clothes weren’t even an obstacle for him, as long as he got close enough to feel him.

As if he could be gone at any minute.

“I want to kiss you, Mr. Graves”, was all Credence said as he leaned closer to Percival’s face.

Credence cradled Percival’s face with his both hands and tried to pull him as close to him as possible without actually touching him. Their breaths mingle for a moment, but Percival could barely stand the thought of this young man’s plumb lips being that close to his and not being kissed.

So he allowed Credence to pull him closer and kiss him.

Credence lips were so warm they almost burned him a little, much like the way his favorite whiskey would burn his throat when he swallowed a sip of it. It burned just right. Not too much, but left an impression.

His musing were cut short when he felt Credence long bony fingers grip his backcombed hair and almost pull the hair off and the deep groans and soft moans that left the young man’s lithe frame was just enough to drive Percival mad.

But it was also enough to pull him back to reality.

“What are you doing, boy?” Percival huffed out as he pulled away from the young man’s lips, but he was incredibly tempted to return.

“I told you…” Credence said with cheeks tinged pink and lips red and almost bruised from the earlier assault. “I wanted to kiss you. Don’t you want to kiss me?”

“It doesn’t matter what I want”, Percival said and tried to rationalize away the tightening sensation in his dark jeans. “You’re… you’re so incredibly young, Credence. You barley know me at that. There is no possible way that this is a good idea.”

Credence simply smiled a stiff little smile his way.

“I’ve been with older men before”, he silently said. “Mother wasn’t happy about that either, obviously. But it happened and I enjoyed it, Mr. Graves.”

The thought of their being older men on top of Credence did nothing to calm Percival’s nerves down. Absolutely nothing.

In fact, it made him furious.

The mere thought of older people, older men, and taking advantage of this obviously young man’s delicate mind made him so angry he wanted to strangle something and throw up all at once.

Credence must have noticed the clear distress on Percival and nuzzled at his chin.

“It’s just me, Mr. Graves”, he said. “There is no need to freak out or overanalyze it. I just want you right now. Why do you make this so complicated?”

He bit lightly on Percival’s pulse point and something inside of Percival flared up and made him gasp, and just out of reflex he pulled Credence closer to him again, clenching hands in his thick sweater. His mouth searched out to meet Credence, but this time he was biting and licking at his mouth and all Credence did in response was huff out a delighted groan and smile at him. Percival could feel it against his lips.

It felt like he could drown in it. He could drown in this young man and he would gladly let him steal his very last breath away.

The moment he thought that he pulled away from the kiss again, and this time Credence simply smiled at him and moved back a little in his lap. It was weird how right he felt there. How nice he felt this close to Percival’s body. It felt like he belonged there somehow.

Flawlessly, he supposed.

Credence looked wicked happy, almost too happy. Like a kid that got to open a Christmas present way too early and he was ecstatic to see what he could do with his new gift. His eyes were gleaming in the dark of the living room, and his hair was mussed.

It should be illegal how good this young man looked for him. He looked delectable and Percival wanted to devour him and also punch him in the face at the same time, as to remind how much of a bad idea this was.

“I’m exhausted”, was all Percival managed to say.

It could have been the long workday, it could have been the intense conversation with Credence Barebone, it could have been the onslaught of emotions he was feeling right now for the young man… but he was indeed exhausted beyond words.

“Then let’s go to sleep”, was all Credence said before pulling himself off from Percival’s lap.

Percival stood up and started walking towards his bedroom with Credence following him closely behind, making sure that Percival was looking as he unbuttoned his slacks.

Once they arrived to the big bedroom Credence was already pulling his pants down as far as he could before he could kick them off. Of course Percival couldn’t help but to stare at the young man. His long pale legs where littered with healed scars and the line of his cock could be seen through his underwear… the fact that this young man was in his bedroom right now made Percival want to tear his own hair out.

Credence caught him staring quite openly at him and grinned towards the older male.

As Credence made his way over the room to the big white bed, all Percival could do was to stare at the young boy. There was something incredibly different about the young man he had met at the shop, the one that was so nervous they would keep pulling their sweater until the sleeves were ruined, and this Credence… This Credence was in his bed, removing the sweater, and almost basking in the way Percival couldn’t stop looking at him.

When the sweater was thrown at the end of the queen-sized bed with white sheets, and all Credence was left with was his white boyish underwear, it once again struck Percival how many scars were running along the pale skin.

He knew that it wasn’t unusual for people with abusive parents to have scars, but the amount of them on this little pale body was overwhelming for Percival to look at. He wanted to touch them, and also make them magically disappear into thin air.

Somehow they suited Credence tough.

Built character, if you will.

He felt warm hands on his own pants and when he looked down, he saw Credence unbuttoning his pants and dragging them down way too slow for it to not be on purpose.

Percival kicked his pants off and removed his own sweater so all he was standing in was his silky midnight blue boxers and crawled into bed next to Credence whom just laid there and waited for him.

They didn’t say anything, but they didn’t stop looking at each other either, as Credence moved closer to him. If it was an invite or if it was him wanting to get more body heat, Percival didn’t know.

Credence kissed the corner of Percival’s chapped lips again, but his hands weren’t grabbing him this time. Merely just letting his warm lips touch and caress Percival’s as if he had all the time in the world. Like there was no rush.

“Just kissing”, Percival said with a stern face. “We’re not going any further than that.”

“Just sleeping now”, was all Credence said with a sigh leaving his lips as he pulled the covers over his pale frame.

Percival was shocked over the compliance of this young boy, but decided not to question it. It was a little weird to feel the young man’s warm and tiny body pressed against his own.

He turned his back against the young man, and even with all the thoughts in his head he fell asleep quite quickly after that. The sound of Credence lightly snoring put him at ease.

***

Percival woke up feeling incredibly warm even with the bedsheet thrown off the bed somewhere.

It took him a while to recollect the memories from last night. Credence Barebone following him home, kissing him, getting undressed and into his bed. The nausea that was so clear yesterday when he thought about the overwhelming feelings that Credence seemed to throw his way was all gone now. Shimmered down like a cup of hot coffee that was hot enough to please him, but cold enough to not burn his tongue off.

That’s the moment he realized that Credence was plastered up against his back, face tucked against his neck and his breath was ghosting Percival’s skin. His warm hand was resting just above Percival’s cock with his long and slender pinkie tucked under the waistband of his underwear.

It was way too confusing to wake up in this position.

He was warm and comfortable, and he could feel every crevice of Credence half naked body pressed against his own. It didn’t help that the young man was sporting some morning wood that currently pressed against Percival’s buttocks.

It felt right, so he reached down his body and squeezed his own cock around his underwear and tried to avoid rubbing up against Credence. He groaned as he stretched his body out as much as he possibly could, the sheets tangling up with his feet in the process.

Credence woke up moaning, his mouth open as he pressed hot and wet kisses all along his neck and whatever skin he could reach. It didn’t take him long to reach down Percival’s silky boxers and wrap a warm hand around his thick erection. He wasn’t stroking him hard and fast, like Percival himself would have done if he felt the need to, but more like slowly caressing him. Feeling him out, letting him know that he could touch him and that he wanted to touch him for all he was worth.

That’s the moment Percival decided that he didn’t need any more convincing.

He turned around and almost knocked Credence in the face with his own head, but Credence simply giggled in a sleepy manner and moved in as close as he could get to the older man.

He couldn’t help that he was eager.

Percival reached down and took Credence own cock in his hands, stroking a little rougher than Credence had done to him, but still slow enough to make him know that this was supposed to feel… comforting.

Credence gasped as he kissed him as hard as he possibly could, leaving Percival’s sensitive lips bruised and eager to taste more of Credence. For a moment Credence forgot what he was doing with his hands and simply focused on kissing Percival’s face with all he got. He kissed his cheeks, his forehead and right underneath the chin before returning to his lips with full force.

Percival took what he could get. Breathing in the same air, letting his free hand linger on the small backside of the younger male and gasping whenever Credence brushed against his cock.

After a moment of sloppily making out and touching whatever skin they could reach Credence pushed his hands away and climbed on top of Percival, slightly rocking their hips together in careful motions. A breathless groan made its way out of Percival’s mouth.

His soft hands were pressing Percival’s face as close to his as he could possibly get, and pressing his body down so their cocks were aligned perfectly against each other. It was almost too hot for Percival to comprehend.

Not only the motion of their bodies so intertwined, and not necessarily the hot wet breaths that Credence was drenching his face and lips in, but the way it felt most of all. It was erotic in a way that Percival had never felt before.

“Bloody hell”, was all Percival managed to say as Credence ground down and winded thin, pale arms around his neck and forced him to sit up.

When he opened his eyes, that he hadn’t even realized that he had closed in the first place, all he could see was beautiful, scarred pale skin in front of him, and brown eyes with dilated pupils.

With a groan he attacked the skin that was so tauntingly showed off in front of him, licking and nibbling the collarbones of the younger male and he gripped the hips of the younger man to pull him even closer to him.

Credence giggled a little at the treatment his neck was given by the older man, but seemed to appreciate it when he tipped his head back to give him more room to devour him.

“I want you to touch me”, Credence whispered breathlessly. “I want to touch you also. I want you to make me cum.”

He sounded so desperate for it, for whatever Percival had to give him, that there was no possible way for Percival to deny this young man anything.

He pulled down as much of the young man’s underwear as he could, doing the same to himself and wrapped his hand around them both, jacking them both off in a rough enough pace to satisfy them both but gentle enough to allow him to ravish the young man’s neck again.

Percival had no recollection if ever enjoying biting his partners or being wild in any way, but something about this young man seemed to drag that side out of him. He wanted to bite him, leave marks for the world to see, claw his way into his skin and touch every part of his body that he was allowed to touch.

The flesh in his hand was so incredibly warm and hard, and if Percival had any shame he would be flustered. He wasn’t. He couldn’t even begin to explain how excited this made him.

How excited Credence made him.

It was rough, messy and desperate.

It was everything he wanted, and more.

He could feel his balls getting tighter the more high-pitched moans that he managed to pour out of Credence, and when he felt warm and slender fingers dragging along his shoulder it was almost unbearable.

He sped up his hand a little bit more, tightened the grip just a little bit, just get him that much closer to the finish line.

“I’m really close”, Credence groaned into his ear as he ground his hips even more erratically against Percival.

Hands were everywhere on Percival. His neck, his throat, his hair… it was like Credence was trying to either pull him apart or ground himself to the other man.

The sounds of their heavy breaths and moans were filling the otherwise empty room.

“Me too”, Percival groaned against his skin feeling that burst of warmth in the pit of his stomach almost reaching its peak.

When Credence ground his hips one last time he fell apart at the seams and Percival had to bite his lips to keep quiet as Credence cum stained his skin. It was hot, almost burning, but it was the most perfect thing he could have imagined.

The content and satisfied groan that Credence made was all it took for Percival to reach his own peak, white light behind his eyes and head thrown back as a heavy gasp left his lips.

The neighbors probably had heard them even from across the street, but Percival couldn’t find it in himself to care. He was just way too content and his limbs were lax.

“That went… swell”, was all Credence said as he pulled himself off Percival and laid down right next to him instead. “Thank you for letting me have that.”

“This is really not the type of thing that you say thank you for”, Percival said with a small chuckle leaving his lips.

Credence pulled his underwear all the way off and used them to clean himself off and then proceeded to wipe Percival down as well before he threw them off the bed.

He looked absolutely debauched, and Percival was incredibly pleased by his work.

It went quiet for a while, and Percival didn’t quite know what to make of that. It was uncomfortable, especially when all Percival could really feel was his heart almost swelling up to the point of bursting. He felt so comfortably warm and content, which was something he didn’t feel all that often with other people around.

“I hope you realize…” Percival started while staring at the ceiling and letting Credence caress his naked upper body with slow and reassuring hands. “I hope you realize that I’ve fallen for you.”

Why had he let that slink out?

He knew it was insane. It shouldn’t be possible to fall for someone this soon, but it felt so incredibly right to voice those feelings. Maybe because he felt like he knew Credence soul through the books? Maybe because their chemistry was just too perfect to not get sucked in?

He didn’t care about why, but he knew that once he had opened his mouth and said that there was no possible way for him to take it back.

It was out there in the open.

Credence seemed to stiffen up right beside him. The hands that had been so slowly caressing and touching Percival’s chest was now nowhere near his body, providing him with the comfort he needed right now.

Needed. Craved.

“I think I should go now, sir” Credence said in a barley hushed whisper before kicking himself out of bed as fast as he could it seemed.

In the matter of minutes he was half-dressed and almost out of the door, trying to pull his zipper up, and Percival didn’t even dare to look at him anymore. That scar covered skin and beautiful black hair that was still a little ruffled only made him feel unhappy now, but he hadn’t done anything wrong.

Right?

“So… that’s it?” Percival finally said.

He didn’t sound accusing or angry, because this wasn’t about that. He wasn’t angry, he was disappointed. Disappointed and sad perhaps, and he didn’t know why. This was a risk he had calculated.

“Just get my hands all over your dick and make you cum before you’re out of the door again?” Percival said and this time he did sound a little malicious, but it wasn’t on purpose.

He wasn’t trying to make this more awkward than it already was, but he couldn’t help feeling like he had actually messed this up somehow. Should he just have kept his mouth shut and let Credence snuggle up into him like everything was fine?

But what would the difference be if he didn’t?

If this was Credence response for feelings or people developing deeper connections than fucking, while Percival obviously did not feel that way, it would eventually have gone straight to hell anyway.

“It’s not like that”, Credence defended himself but he didn’t dare to meet Percival’s eyes as he assembled the last of his clothes in a somewhat correct manner but the sweater was still slightly askew.

“Then feel free to explain”, Percival said. “I’ve got all the time in the World.”

“It’s not about… you, sir”, Credence said still not looking Percival anywhere near the eyes, which was making the older male slightly frustrated.

He at least deserved that. Some kind of notion that this had happened and that this was not some kind of messed up wet dream, but currently it seemed very surreal.

Credence, whom had seemed so adamant on getting into Percival’s pants and being intimate with him, was running out of his house in sheer panic the moment Percival told him that he wanted more than a simple hand job out of it. From what he gathered Credence himself found that they had some kind of chemistry and perhaps a much deeper bond than that so why didn’t this make as much sense for Credence as it did for Percival?

This young man was also the same young man that had talked about his troubled past with him, spoke about his book and his thought for the entirety of last night and then fallen asleep right next to him like a lover.

Could it be that Percival had really misread this entire situation?

“I can’t really explain right now, but I assure you that I will…” Credence explained. “I will explain everything soon enough.”

With that Credence was out the bedroom door and a couple of minutes thereafter Percival heard the front door slam shut.

Percival didn’t move an inch. Not to comfort himself back into sleeping, nor to chase the young man. Neither one of those options would do him any good at this current moment anyways.

All he could do was wait even if he knew it was in vain.

***

Percival felt guilty as he called in sick to work for the fourth week in a row, but not as guilty as he probably should feel. He knew it was irrational and that he was being petty, but at this current moment that was all he allowed himself to feel.

The moment he started thinking too much was the moment he allowed himself to be defeated by some silly young boy and he would never sink that low.

He was an adult after all.

Truth to be told he didn’t feel like going to work right now. The passion for books seemed to have disappeared the moment Credence had walked out the door, and his dignity had walked out with him.

Or at least that’s what he told his deprived self during times of self-pity, which was something he wasted quite a lot of time on lately.

There were days where he didn’t move from the soda unless Gatsby needed to be fed, and the moment he had done his deed he would return to the exact same spot and watch mindless TV.

It didn’t strike him as odd that he didn’t even lock the door during the night until the end of the third week passed, and that’s coincidentally, he watched a poetry slam where a girl had made a beautiful and heartfelt poem about being abandoned by their lover but refusing to lock the doors and refuted the idea of getting rid of their favorite food in case they returned. Just in case.

Was he really waiting that desperately for the young man to return?

Perhaps everything about their relationship to begin with had been a bad idea. As he had said himself at first. Credence was too young, too naïve and too inexperienced to really understand how to be involved with Percival Graves on any level. Percival understood that. He understood that better than he probably allowed himself to gloat in, but there was still something captivating about the young man that Percival’s feelings and brain refused to abandon.

His soul was so beautiful.

That’s the best way Percival could describe it. He had felt it the moment he had seen him in the store, but it had ten folded when he understood that the author behind the most painfully beautiful book he had ever read was the same young man.

Whatever the young man had gone through, tragedy and abuse, he was such a beautiful person in every aspect of the word that there was no possible way for Percival to not develop feeling for him that early on.

It was just meant to happen like that.

But he realized that he couldn’t waste any more time waiting. Credence wasn’t going to barge through the door giving him the well-deserved explanation he deserved, and he shouldn’t waste any more time doing nothing and wasting away.

Seraphina thankfully didn’t ask him any questions, which really should worry Percival a little. What kind of boss just let their workers take weeks off without thinking that there was something seriously wrong? What if he had been seriously ill and needed help?

Or maybe she had figured that this was something he was going through and making him unable to work? He wouldn’t put it beside her that she was smart enough to figure things out even when he didn’t say anything in particular. There was a reason she was his boss after all, and she was a damn good one at that.

He shot a quick message to Seraphina, who was already in the store doing his job like the good boss she was, that he would come in anyway but he still felt a little under the weather. This was at the very least true.

At least no one could accuse him of lying to himself or anyone else.

***

The books felt heavier the longer he held on to them. He couldn’t ever recall feeling like that before.

Not that he hadn’t encountered books that were heavy, because that he most certainly had, but he almost felt annoyed by their mere presence right now which in turn made them feel heavier.

If he had been able to staple up every single bible in the shop he was not going to let some mediocre books about self-love be his fall.

It should make him panic that he didn’t quite feel right, even at work, but it didn’t.

It was a slow day it turned out. No philosophy students, no Jane Austin fans… no nothing really. The few costumers that came in were more interested in what new books they would have by the end of the month rather than the ones they already have, and for some reason that frustrated Percival even more.

Just get the books and get out, a tiny little part of him wanted to yell at them.

But that would be irrational and very unprofessional, and he was none of those things. For now.

“Are you just going to stand there staring at those books for the rest of the day?” The smooth voice of Seraphina asked him.

The heavy books were still in his hands and he didn’t know where he should put them. He didn’t have a sense of direction, nor a tactic to get to where he needed to go. Everything about this was confusing him and he had no clue as to how to respond to it.

Other than to man up and get on with it.

“Sorry about that”, was all Percival said to his boss.

Seraphina, however, didn’t look like she was looking for an apology. When she looked at him with her arms folded and a serious expression she didn’t look angry or accusing. She looked worried.

And that terrified Percival even more.

“No need to apologize, dearest” was all she said and unfolded her arms to straighten up her white, almost sheer blouse that made her tawny brown skin glow in an almost radiant way.

Seraphina had expensive taste in clothes. That Percival knew for a fact. Her brands had to be pricey and up to par with the rest of her closet, and the colors had to be pristine. If the materials weren’t flowy and dramatic enough for her to feel like a queen there was no way she’d even look at it.

Percival had noticed that right from the start.

From the way she dressed to the way she carried herself in a room filled with people that made it seem like she was almost royal. She would talk to people like she was better than them most of the time, but also speak to them in a way that made them interested in knowing what she thought and how they could evolve to her level.

People could get sucked into her mind sometimes, and she enjoyed every second of that. Control was something he knew that she loved, and Percival was happy being her right hand. He didn’t particularly enjoy control as much as he loved watching things evolve into something bigger.

Something better.

A little tune that sounded like it came from a cellular device broke the heavy silence in the shop, and Percival was grateful for that. Seraphina looked at her phone again, which she had been quite adamant on watching these last couple of hours, and seemed to be deep in thought for a moment.

Someone must have sent her a text, or perhaps a mail about a new book. Seraphina was the one that kept track of such things, considering that she wanted to keep

Percival put the books in his hands down on the shelf and watched the shelf swayed a little with the weight.

Maybe the books were heavier than he had ever given them cred for.

“Would you look at that”, he heard Seraphina muse in the background and he could almost sense her little secret smile burning his neck. “Now that is very interesting…”

“What?” Percival asked as he figured that Seraphina wanted him to ask that.

So sometimes he played right along with her games and allowed himself to get sucked into her mind, and he was fine with that for the most part. She had never steered him wrong in the first place.

“That author you like…” she stated as she continued to scroll down what he assumed was a big post online. “The Obscurus author? Credence Barebone I believe his name was? He has a new book in the works right now.”

Percival swallowed so hard he almost thought Seraphina could hear him even with the distance between them.

A new book?

Maybe the book was Barebones way of explaining what had gone down that morning, or overall what was going on inside of his mind. Obscurus after all told a tale about the young man’s life, the tragedy of it all, and maybe this one would be how he felt… today.

Perhaps it was narcissistic of Percival to assume that he would somehow be involved in this new book, and maybe he would get some kind of apology, but he still couldn’t stop that little glimmer of hope that settled into the pit of his stomach.

Perhaps narcissism wasn’t the real name. Perhaps ignorance was the word he was looking for.

Seraphina looked at him like she _knew._

Like she knew how he felt and like she could read his mind, and it he didn’t adore his boss as much as he did, he would be angry with her for looking so smug about it. There was no possible way she knew what he was going through right now, and if she kept that look up she never would either.

“He’s a fine young man, ain’t he?” was all she said as she put her phone away, still with that secretive smile on her full lips that were covered in rich red lipstick.

She _knew._

Once again all Percival could do was to avoid eye contact at all costs and swallow hard enough to annoy his throat. Hopefully she’d let this conversation go and let Percival be on his own with his thoughts, like she usually did when she knew that something was bothering him.

“I know he was here, Percival” she finally said.

Her voice was sharp and direct. No room for discussions. She knew and she wanted to have this conversation by now.

“Maybe he was”, was all Percival answered her. He refused to give her the satisfaction of making him feel uncomfortable enough to discuss this in too much depth, but he couldn’t lie to her either.

“I also know that the both of you became rather _close_ ”, she continued and choose her words wisely. Not as if she was afraid to hurt him to dig up old wounds, but like she knew that the moment she stepped on his toes and made him upset enough, he would close down everything about this conversation as quickly as it had been brought up.

The main question here was not what she knew, or what she thought she knew, but rather how she knew anything to begin with.

Percival pulled a face towards her before he continued dusting off his shelves in front of him, mindlessly trying to escape reality by doing things to distract himself.

“I also know that he became rather _difficult_ at the end”, she said.

As if difficult was a way to describe it. Percival didn’t quite know how to put into words what Credence Barebone was the morning he decided to leave his life just as quickly as he made his presence known.

He had seemed hell-bent on the fact that Percival shouldn’t think too badly of him, that he would explain everything as soon as possible, but most of all he seemed incredibly scared.  Scared of Percival feeling too much, or he himself feeling too much, or the whole situation overall being too much for that little young body to handle.

“You don’t really know anything”, Percival finally answered her. “Because you weren’t there to witness it.”

“You don’t need to witness something if it’s written all over the internet, dearest”, she shot right back at him.

Percival looked at the woman with a face of concern and confusion. What exactly did she mean by that?

“You really should invest in a computer”, she explained, and picked up her cell phone again and started scrolling down the screen. “Ever since Barebone published his first book I’ve been keeping tabs on him. Did you know that he runs a blog? He posts pictures and poetry mostly, but sometimes he’ll update the readers about his life.”

Percival just raised his eyebrows in a confused manner as an answer to Seraphina’s question. He had no idea about this so called blog, nor did he really adventure out on the web for anything other than sometimes check their inventory and sometimes he would indulge in reading about different authors, but he never stayed out there too long.

He did understand the concept of blogs though.

He could picture Credence’s blog right in front of him. Mostly white, with simple black text and cursive titles. He hoped that Credence posted his own pictures of flowers, of nature and whatever else he could find in his everyday life that made him feel inspired. The pictures would be light and easy to look at it, simplistic in their minimalist design, and with a blues and black and gray tint to them that would make them look hauntingly beautiful.

Somehow it felt like it would suit the young man’s aesthetic, and the moment that thought was planted into Percival’s head it would never leave.

“You should read what he has posted lately”, was all Seraphina said as she planted her mobile device in his hand. “It might be good for you.”

Percival planned on refusing her, saying that even if she was right with her assumptions and whatever else he could think of, nothing good would come out of him delving more into the world of Credence Barebone.

What good would it do even if Credence wrote and entire essay about his intense love for Percival if the matter at hand was that Percival was still alone every night, and he actually felt alone and abandoned?

What good would it do when Percival still couldn’t get that face out of his mind? That beautiful young face, with scars littered all over his lithe body and that adorable little secret smile that could still even just from a picture in Percival’s head still make him want to abandon all rational thought and just scream at the world.

Holy hell.

He was so enamored with this man it was ridiculous.

With a sigh he accepted the phone and was greeted by the blog that Seraphina had directed him towards. Much like what he had expected, and perhaps hoped, the design was simplistic with its white background and elegant black text.

He scrolled down just a bit to see what text he could come across without digging too much.

The text were everything from poetry to snippets of the new books Percival assumed, but when he stumbled across a text with a different font he knew that it was not meant to be read as such.

_“There is not a day where I don’t think about you and what we could be.”_

The text was short and easy, and Percival’s heart almost jumped out of his chest at the mere thought that this… this could be directed towards him. Credence thought of him. Missed him even. Maybe?

He scrolled down even further. More poetry about broken hearts and pictures of fresh flowers with light colors, until he found a text posted a day after he had left Percival’s home. It was a rather long text in comparison to the other ones, which made it stand out even more.

_“I let you see the most damaged parts of me. The skin I let very few people touch. The fragile mind that I’ve let few people get in contact with. I thought it would be enough for you. But you want more, don’t you?”_

If that was directed towards Percival, the answer would be yes. Isn’t it obvious?

_“It’s not that I haven’t fallen for you. It’s not that I don’t want you. It’s not that I don’t think that our feelings for each other are enough. It’s that I’m so devastatingly afraid of what love can do to us.”_

It made perfect sense.

Of course Credence was scared of love. He had seen firsthand what it could do to people. He had seen his mother that was supposed to love him, tear him apart both mentally and physically. His mind was a mess from what he’d been through, and the likelihood that he would ever completely become free of the inner torture was close to nonexistent.

Whenever he changed his clothes he would be reminded because of those scars he had, and whenever he experienced love of any kind his mind would want to flee from the scene.

Percival understood all of that.

But what was he supposed to do now?

The text ended with a picture that was of the bookshop, which Percival noticed had been posted quite a lot during his earlier entries when he scrolled down some more. That in turn was probably how Seraphina figured out their so called relationship. She was a smart cookie after all.

“Have you read his latest post?” Seraphina asked, her voice sounding much softer and kinder than it did before.

As if she knew she was treading dangerous water right now, both with Percival’s patience and mental state.

He decided to do what she wanted and scrolled all the way up, and noticed a very simple and short blog post. The earlier posts had been about the new books, saying things that he was looking forward to see what people would think about it because it would be different from Obscurus, but he hoped that people would still support him.

However, the latest post was without a doubt something directed towards Percival.

_“I don’t want to be afraid anymore.”_

How could that be directed towards anyone else other than him?

This time Percival’s heart swelled with so more than regret and shame. It swelled with something akin to hope, and perhaps the same kind of fondness he felt when he saw the young man in the café the first time. He would deny it if anyone asked, but truly, it felt like his heart was working overtime and his skin felt hot enough to almost start sweating.

“I can’t believe you’re showing me this”, was all Percival told his boss.  

It was rather unfair that he now knew that they both had feelings for each other, the young man was too damaged to be with him. Even if Credence really wanted to be with him, wanted to explore whatever this was, he simply couldn’t because he was too scared.

It was very unfair.

“What?” She asked and looked like she was almost mocking him with the face she was pulling. “Don’t you believe him?”

“Of course I believe him”, Percival said in a defensive tone. “Of course I know that his past has left him rather… emotionally unstable. Of course I know that this can’t work out. I was perfectly aware of that long before you showed me this shit.”

He didn’t use crude language often, so when he did it really made an impact. In this case the moment he uttered the word ‘shit’ Seraphina looked almost taken aback by his vocabulary.

“You seem to be incapable of reading things that are right in front of you”, was all Seraphina said. She didn’t look angry, more disappointed than anything.

“What do you mean?”

“The last post articulated it quite well in my honest opinion”, Seraphina explained and stoked a blond lose curl behind her ear where it belonged. “Don’t you get it?”

Percival just stared at her in hope that she would explain what she meant about that. I don’t want to be afraid anymore. Of course the young man didn’t want to be afraid anymore. Who would ever want to be afraid?

“He wants to be with you”, Seraphina sighed. “That means that he’s willing to fight for it. The question is… are you?”

That was a good question.

If she had asked him four weeks ago the question would have been a fuck no. His pride couldn’t take the thought of allowing someone that had ran out of his home the moment he admitted to his feelings back into his life.

He was not that type of person.

But the more time that had passed, the less resentment he felt. The more he understood, the more he could relate, and the anger he felt soon disappeared into thin air.

However, that didn’t answer the question.

Would he fight for it if he had a chance?

“Perhaps”, was all Percival answered after a tedious moment of silence.

Seraphina raised a perfectly trimmed eyebrow his way, and crossed her arms as if waiting for him to explain himself, or that she didn’t believe him.

“That’s a lie”, Percival said almost silently. “Of course I would fight for it. I have never been this infatuated with someone before and I have never let anyone in this quickly, so that must mean something, right? What other choice would I have than to fight for it?”

There was a loud, shocked gasp in somewhere in the background, and both Seraphina and Percival turned their head towards the noise they heard in the otherwise almost deserted store.

Just by the entrance stood a very familiar figure. A figure that Percival would recognize almost anywhere. A figure he had hoped to see all week, and the weeks before that for that matter.

A figure he had actually very much missed.

“The man of the hour I see”, Seraphina said with an all-knowing smile gracing her lips, like she knew what was going on and knew all along.

Of course she did.

Seraphina might be very intelligent, but Percival was at the very least not dumb.

It was all coming together awfully smooth for her to not have been meddling in his business. First showing him the blog, then showing specific posts that were directed at him and then all the sudden the young man was right there. It was all way too sketchy, wasn’t it?

Seraphina must have noticed the way Percival frowned thanks to the thoughts currently racing in his head, so she smiled at him and patted him on the shoulder before leaning in closer to his ear so she could whisper to him.

“It all worked out perfectly, didn’t it?” was all she whispered before moving away from her employee. “I’m going to leave you two guys to talk. The shop is about to hit closing-time anyways.”

That was a lie. It was not anywhere near closing-time, but Percival wasn’t going to protest against that.

They did need to talk.

The moment Seraphina left the shop and locked the door behind her Percival let his senses drown in everything that Credence Barebone was. He soaked in the mere sight of the young man that still stood by the entrance, not daring to move. He wore black elegant clothes. Dark jeans and a black turtleneck that almost made him look more adult than Percival currently felt. It made him look long and slender, like he could intimidate people from a distance.

His dark eyes looked at him enticingly, as if waiting for Percival to do something. To say something. Anything.

“So… a blog, huh?” was all Percival managed to say after a long moment of silence. He sounded uninterested, as he always did, but inside of him his blood was pumping and making him almost feel lightheaded.

“It wasn’t my idea”, Credence defended himself as if it had been an attack. “My publisher told me that it would be a great way for me to reach out to the younger audience, and I do need the money so…”

He trailed off when he realized that Percival stared him down like a hawk. It was hard not to look intimidating when you stood in front of the younger man. He was so pale, so small and almost fragile.

If Percival were to touch him right now he might just fall apart right before his eyes. That’s how delicate he seemed.

“Why are you here?” Percival decided to ask.

“Why have you fallen for me?” Credence shot right back at him.

Percival had thought about that question a lot. While he laid in bed with Gatsby on top of him, while he took the first sip of his morning coffee and when he watched those sappy romantic movies the TV-stations decided to air in the middle of the night for some reason. Those were the moment the questions hit him as hard a punch right in the face.

Why had he fallen for this boy?

He was young, he was damaged, he was hard to read… he was everything that could eventually be Percival’s demise if he allowed it to be.

At the same time, this young man was beautiful. His soul was beautiful. Delicate was a word that came to mind in a very poetic sense. Percival wanted to glue those damaged parts together and hold him until it dried into place.

“I don’t quite know”, Percival concluded and crossed his arms as he thought about the question. “There are plenty of things about you that are very troublesome. There are plenty of reasons why this will never work. You’re very young, for example, and you still have your entire life ahead of you, whereas it’s about time for me to either give up on relationships or find someone to marry.”

“Relationships?”

“You do realize that’s what I want from you, right?” Percival asked all the sudden feeling very unsure about where this was going.

Maybe Credence didn’t want to be with him at all in that sense. Maybe all Credence wanted was another older man in his life that could please him, that could adore him from afar, but never getting close enough to actually build a future together with him.

It would make sense.

“I want a relationship with you”, Percival concluded so that there would be no more room for guessing and avoiding the subject. “Even if there’s a million reasons why this could never work I still get a sense that…”

“We belong together”, Credence finished when Percival didn’t quite know how to end his train of thought.

This time when Percival looked at Credence, and actually looked at him, there was that little smile on his lips again. That smile that could drive any grown man absolutely insane for him.

“I think so too”, Percival said and allowed a tiny little smile grace his lips as well.

Credence quickly walked up to him and before Percival even had a chance to back away or even react to the invasion of personal space, there were two thin and lithe arms circling around him and pulling him closer to him.

The hug told Percival all he needed to know.

It told him that he had nothing to fear, and that Credence Barebone was worth every ounce of love that Percival could ever feel. It told him that even if they had both said that they would fight for this, there would be no such thing needed.

They would just need to love each other.

“Kiss me, Mr. Graves” Credence whispered as he leaned his face up towards him.

His hot breath mixing with Percival’s own for a moment before Percival leaned down and locked his lips with the younger man. It was a gentle one, not as hot and needy as it had been the last time they kissed, but still everything Percival could have wanted if not more than that.

***

“Do you really think it’s good enough?” Credence asked for the fifth time as he looked like he wanted to cry.

His big brown puppy eyes would be the death of Percival one day. He was sure of that.

“I’ve told you many times already, Credence”, Percival said while trying his hardest to not sound as annoyed as he felt. “It’s a great book and they are going to love it. If they don’t we’ll just go to the next publisher and we’ll do so until there are no publishers out there.”

In all honesty Percival had no idea why Credence felt that insecure about his latest work.

Percival had been the first person to read it, obviously, and everything about it made Percival thrilled to show the world was his partner could create. The story took a turn from the Obscurus storyline, where the main character was now somewhere completely new and ready to start over again and become what they always set out to be.

There had been a struggle at first, of course, with finding whatever their destiny was and towards the end it seemed like that exact answer was still a bit fussy. Not in a bad way though. As in ‘there will always be opportunities to grow’ way, which allowed a sense of accomplishment for not only the readers, but Percival assumed that Credence felt the same.

There was a sense of completion in the unfinished way of life.

His young writer was, without a doubt, a poet at heart after all.

“What if the only publishers that will ever want me are in another country?” Credence asked all the sudden, looking all sorts of terrified as he said it.

Percival started laughing at that, which turned out to be a bad decision because Credence was dead serious about that question.

The thing that Percival never understood is how someone could doubt themselves as much as Credence did.

The young man had the world at his feet. He was young and intelligent and there was not a thing in the world that he was not capable of, but when it came to his confidence he would rather doubt himself rather than lift himself.

It took a while for Percival to come to the conclusion that those were some of the more permanent scars that his abusive mother left him. The way she had spoken to him and completely pushed him around both mentally and physically had left Credence in a constant state of self-hatred, and if he didn’t hate himself he felt like he was doing something wrong.

Credence had stated so himself.

One time in particular when Percival and Credence had been in bed together, basking in the state of afterglow, Percival had noticed Credence touching his pale and healed scars all over his arms. He had touched them, stroked them, like it was comforting to do so. Like it reminded him of something.

When Percival had asked him what he thought about while he touched them Credence had without a moment of silence answered that he had thought about how much he hated himself at times thanks to those scars. That he hated how damaged he had been, but that he was also very thankful for the fact that those scars had made him what he is today.

And what he is today was worth celebrating.

If that was not a sentence that would make a grown person cry than nothing ever could.

“I really doubt you’ll have to worry about that, love” Percival stated with a smile on his lips. “We know that you know what you’re doing. They will want your book and you will have two books published for the world to read.”

For a moment Credence looked like he wanted to protest, but when he looked into Percival’s eyes and saw no sign of him lying or sympathy he just shrugged his shoulders lightly. He knew that when Percival called him love he was being serious and truthful about what he was saying. He was not the type that would throw around such a pet-names just to cheer him on.

Percival stroked Credence cheek slowly in a comforting movement, without saying a word and neither did Credence. They simply stood there in comfort, reassuring silence.

Sometimes that was all Credence wanted. A light touch of affirmation was all it took some days to calm those inner demons down, but some days he needed a lot more than that. Some days Credence could barely control himself and had to get rid of his aggressions in whatever way possible.

Often those were the days where Credence would go right for Percival’s belt, and Percival would never deny him that. The young man was quite a sight down on his knees.

There mere thought about it now stirred his stomach with arousal.

“I can do this”, Credence said all the sudden as if assuring himself of what Percival already told him. “I will do this and it’s going to go great. I will make it big in this world.”

“Exactly, my boy”, Percival encouraged him with a smile on his lips.

There was not a doubt in his mind.

**Author's Note:**

> Overall this was a very fun project for me because I was quite iffy about it at first, but the more I wrote the more attached I became. I'll def be writing more with these lovely men in the future! I'm sure of it.  
> 
> Feel free to leave a comment or two!  
> If you want to reach me outside of AO3 feel free to visit  
> https://ask.fm/YandereMarty  
> or  
> http://yanderemarty.tumblr.com/
> 
> Take care, lovelies!


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